Discovering Bukowski recently. I thought I would share The Twins with you – read by the poet himself. It’s a poem that made me smile.
(source: rarestimp)
Tag: poetry
Translation
I’ll miss your ass.
“What just my ass?
I’ll get you a replacement.”
Will she speak the words you speak?
Or lull me with your lilt?
Or fuck like you?
Shall she raise her fists as you do?
Or bang heads with me?
“Probably not.”
No, thanks.
I’ll miss your ass.
The Day After Christmas Morn.
up the hill toward the fields.
a man and a boy and a plane.
what does my son carry today?
Sponsored by
Concrete sheep
On roundabout green
Donning Santa hats.
Approaching cars fill with laughter,
Children in the back seats lean and point,
“Mummy, Daddy, look at the shee—”
BANG!
News from the Nameless Writing Group
Congratulations to B Anne Adriaens, poet, writer and member of the Nameless Writing Group who has made her first publication. The transatlantic webzine and online publisher of dystopian poetry, flash fiction and photography, The Bees Are Dead, has featured Miss B’s poem, CWM. Here’s what they said about it:
“This prosaic poem offers an unrelenting and vivid exposition of abandoned Welsh industry.
Adriaens takes us by the hand and pulls us through a rusting forest of steel; her descriptions confessing a strange base excitement amidst the unheimlich, intertwining context of the natural and mechanical.
From an objective point of view, the scenes within this poem could be that of a suburban love story, but via our narrator’s sensory stream of consciousness, we are treated to a speculative glimpse of the post-apocalyptic…”
And here’s the link to CWM.
Way to go, B!
Motorcycle
Tributes flutter like Small Coppers;
Pulls my gaze like a Red Admiral.
And there like a ghost is the mother
Attending to the roadside grave.
Stem Jay
In the chill of a dawn, wet With tears of dew, I saw a stag Broken and strewn, Limbs and guts Snapped and burst By metal, on bloodied tarmac.
Eric Nash 